


The Battle at the Ministry

by whataflammableheart



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Baby Harry Potter, First War with Voldemort, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced BDSM, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24135604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whataflammableheart/pseuds/whataflammableheart
Summary: The history books would say that the Battle at the Ministry of Magic was the turning point of the war. For Remus Lupin, it marked the night when everything could have gone wrong, but didn't.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 20
Kudos: 133





	1. Always Have, Always Will

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is for sixteen-year-old pansexual girl me who just couldn't figure out why on earth the only fanfiction she wanted to read was about gay men and also for seven-years-later me who finally realized he was, surprise surprise, a gay man. 
> 
> I don't usually follow through on actually writing fanfiction, but Wolfstar was the beginning for me so pretty fitting that I actually managed all three chapters of this one. Maybe if folks like it I'll even write more. God knows I have endless free time right now. Thanks Covid. 
> 
> Please take a second to let me know what you think!

The night of October 30th, 1981 Remus Lupin was at home. He’d taken a bath, and their bathtub was too small for his long limbs so it never made for as satisfying of a bathing experience as he imagined it would, but the hot water had still soothed his joints, aching from the moon two days earlier. He’d made a cup of lemon ginger tea with extra honey and curled up on the couch in his softest pajamas to read, for pleasure for once. It was a pulpy Muggle novel chock full of gay sex scenes, as fantastically explicit as they were improbable, plucked from the large box Sirius had discovered amongst his Uncle Alphie’s things after he’d passed. Apparently Sirius was not the only queer amongst the disowned and dishonored exiles of the House of Black. Sirius had been delighted to discover the collection at the time, but in the months since the box had sat largely untouched in their living room, neither of them having much time to do anything that was not related to the war effort or basic bodily necessities.

But that night, Remus had some time off, and he was determined to relax. Just for an evening. He was bone-deep tired, his body hurt, and somehow this war, on top of everything else, had made him achingly lonely, even though none of his loved ones had died ( _yet_ , something in him always whispered).

It was about 9:00, and Remus was just thinking about going to bed early, when the door to the flat flew open. And there was Sirius, and Remus knew immediately that something was wrong. For one thing, Sirius had been on night patrol shifts for weeks now. He wasn’t supposed to be home for hours. For another, he smelled. Of ash, of the blue electric buzz of strong magic, and of– was that blood?

Remus was on his feet in an instant, letting the book and the blanket that had been in his lap fall to the floor.

“Sirius.” His eyes darted all over the other man’s body, looking for the source of the blood. “Are you hurt?” Sirius shook his head. His eyes were wide, his face ghost-white under streaks of soot. Remus’ heart raced.

“No. I– I thought–” Sirius took a step forward, lips twitching. “Remus.” His voice broke on Remus’ name and his face crumpled. By the time Remus got his arms around him he was already sobbing, shoulders heaving, breath coming in uneven gasps.

Remus held him like that, running his fingers through hair that was tangled and– and _sticky_ with something. He tucked his chin over Sirius’ head, made tuneless humming noises in the back of his throat, and all the while his stomach gnawed in fear.

_James. Lily. Peter. Harry. James. Lily. Peter. Harry. James. Lily. Peter. Harry._

Their faces flashed through his mind as he thought, _no no no no no._ Surely not one of them. Surely they were all home and safe and _alive._ They had to be. They had to be. He couldn’t survive if– But he couldn’t even think that because if any of them were going to die it was going to be him. He’d already decided that, hadn’t he? That he would _die_ making sure the rest of them got out of this war safe, if that was what it came to? Better that than to _lose-_

When Sirius had cried as much as he could and his breath slowly began to even out Remus swallowed. Hard. He pressed his hands into Sirius where they had fallen, one spread over the nape of his neck and the base of his skull, one between his shoulder blades. _Sirius is here,_ he thought. _I can’t do anything for the rest of them right now but Sirius is here and alive and needs me_.

He pulled Sirius gently towards the bathroom, keeping his hands on him wherever he could touch. _Here and alive._ “Come on, Pads. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Sirius followed blankly. He let Remus strip his robes off of him and drop them in a heap on the black and white tiles of the bathroom floor. They were damp in places, torn or singed in others. There was blood on the right sleeve and Remus could tell it was blood because the brown-red of it had soaked through to Sirius’ forearm underneath. There was blood caked under his _nails_ too. It wasn’t his though. He had some scratches, a bruise blossoming on his ribs, but nothing serious. Nothing serious.

When he was naked Remus took one more look at him, standing numb and motionless, and shucked off his own clothes as well. It had been months, surely, since they’d been naked together. Remus couldn’t even remember the last time they had touched as long as that embrace near the doorway. He _could_ remember the last time they’d fucked. It had been desperate, clawing, angry, and horribly, horribly sad.

Remus turned on the water and let it get scorching hot, like Sirius liked it. He stepped over the lip of the tub into the spray and turned, offering Sirius a hand. Sirius stared at it, unmoving.

“Moony. I–” He seemed unable to say whatever it was, his mouth frozen open just a little. It might have been funny if it hadn’t been– so dreadfully _not._

“Shh. C’mon. You can tell me when you’re ready.” He stepped one, now wet, foot back out of the shower and reached down to take Sirius’ hand where it hung limp at his side, tugging just a little. “Let me take care of you.”

Sirius closed his mouth. Nodded. Followed the tug into the shower.

It was too small for both of them to share. They had established this countless times, but it had never stopped them before. Remus lathered his hands in soap and began to work it gently, methodically, into Sirius’ skin. His lanky body blocked most of the spray from Sirius, but that was all right for now. He would shift when he needed to. For now, he narrowed his focus to whatever bit of Sirius he was touching at the moment and scrubbed, all the while desperately trying to drown out his fear with a loud internal chant of, _He’s here and alive. Here and alive. Here and alive. He’s here and he’s_ alive _and he needs me._

When Remus had covered Sirius in enough soap to his satisfaction, he ducked out of the way of the showerhead, awkwardly pressing himself against the bathroom wall through the shower curtain. When the full force of the spray fell on his back Sirius stirred enough to rinse himself some. Arm. Arm. Leg. Leg. Remus poured shampoo into his own palm.

“Moony, I killed Peter.” Everything froze. They were standing so close, only not touching by mere technicalities. If Remus had taken a deep breath his chest could have expanded to brush Sirius’ shoulder. But it didn’t. Because. Because he couldn’t breathe. Water was running over them. _Killed Peter._ Peter was dead. Sweet, clueless Peter with his round face, who had stuttered his way all through first and second year. Peter who had come back victorious third year after a summer with a magical speech pathologist, but still slid back into it sometimes when he was nervous. Peter who had never quite gotten over the thrill of discovering that he was an inch and a half taller than Sirius. Peter who had been sure all along that he would fail at the Animagus transformation but who had managed it in the end, had turned back and squeaked “Happy birthday Moony!” even though it was nowhere near March. _No no no no no._

“What do you mean?” Remus breathed, and, miraculously, started rubbing shampoo into Sirius’ hair. He stepped back in front of the showerhead. Kneaded his fingers into Sirius’ scalp. When was the last time they had done this? May maybe. No­– July. After the incident with the icing at Harry’s birthday. So long ago now. There had been a version of Remus who couldn’t imagine not savoring every second of washing Sirius’ hair, every opportunity to touch it at all, really. Now he could hardly feel it. _I killed Peter._

“I didn’t know he– I never would have thought– I mean he’s _Peter._ ” Sirius was speaking in a rush now, no space between half formed sentences. Remus kept rubbing through dark waves of hair, trying to listen, grabbing at meaning as Sirius flew on. “I thought it was _you_ Moony. Oh my god I can’t believe– I _knew_ you would never. But things were so _hard_ with us and you were gone all the time or I was gone and we couldn’t talk about it because _fucking_ Dumbledore and everyone got in my head but. But I think actually it was just easier to believe. To believe that. Instead of admitting that we were just failing at– at this. At trusting– at _loving_ each other.”

Sirius had thought Remus was the spy. Dimly, Remus knew this would hurt later. But he couldn’t feel it, could just watch the wound opening as the same words echoed in his mind. _Peter is dead._ And Sirius was still going.

“I don’t want us to keep any secrets anymore, Remus. Fuck Albus _Fucking_ Dumbledore. I don’t give a flying fuck. I _love_ you. Merlin, Moony, I love you so much.” Remus’ throat hurt. He tucked himself out of the way of the showerhead again so that Sirius could rinse his hair. It was so beautiful, so black, almost liquid itself in the stream of water. He swallowed.

“Sirius. What happened? I need to understand what you’re saying.” He kept his voice low and even. No sense yelling. No sense crying. Not yet. He just. Needed to know.

Sirius nodded. Bent to turn off the water. Sucked in a deep breath, stretching the skin of his back. Straightened up, looking at Remus, and let it out. “Okay. Okay.”

Water was beading on his cheeks, his eyelashes, his lips. The outside edge of his little toe was pressed into the arch of Remus’ foot in the draining pool of sudsy water. Remus ached– loving him, and terrified, and dizzy. He felt, terribly, despite everything, a little pinprick of relief. Because Peter was dead but at least it wasn’t Sirius. And that was the thing about love in wartime that wasn’t so different from the evil, he supposed. Somewhere along the line you started valuing certain lives over others.

Sirius stepped out of the tub and Remus followed. He handed Sirius a towel and retrieved his own and they dried themselves off in their tiny, steamy bathroom.

“We were on duty at the Ministry. Keeping watch from that hideout by the dumpsters. It was me and Kingsley tonight, so I felt pretty safe, y’know. But then, all of a sudden, they were everywhere. Death Eaters. More than I’ve ever seen in one place. And they knew about the hideout, so some of them were on us, and some of them went right in, because there were enough of them. I don’t know how Kingsley managed to send for help while we were fighting them off, but he did. And then everyone was there. Well, almost everyone.”

Remus faintly registered the implication of this. Kingsley had thought he was the spy too. Feeling ill, he picked up his pajamas from the floor and opened the door, leading Sirius towards their bedroom. The chill of the rest of the flat was harsher on his wet and naked skin than the bathroom had been.

“We got through the ones who had attacked us and made it into the Ministry atrium and it was.” Sirius stopped. Shuddered. Remus handed him the pajamas he’d retrieved from their dresser so they could both get dressed. After stepping into his briefs Sirius started again.

“At some point I exploded that statue, you know, the one you hate.” Remus smiled, briefly. “It knocked a few people over, but I couldn’t see­– I mean we just had to keep going.” Remus took his softest cardigan, the one that Sirius used to steal all the time even though the sleeves were too long on him, out of the closet and handed it to Sirius. He was always colder than Remus was. Sirius took it, but just held it to his chest, cradling it like a child might hold a stuffed toy.

“Anyway, we won. I mean we really won, Remus. Took out or captured, I think nineteen Death Eaters total? Malfoy’s dead. Lucius, I mean, not… And Wiley and Yaxely.” Remus raised his eyebrows. Those were big marks.

“Yeah. And um. Mostly just injuries on our side.” Mostly. “They got Benjy Fenwick and Eliza Raleigh,” he said softly. Remus winced. But again, that pinprick of relief. He’d hardly known Benjy or Eliza. Even as he thought it he felt broken, sick, wrong.

“And.” Sirius locked eyes with him. Remus remembered the first time he’d noticed the piercing grey of those eyes. They’d been fourteen, basking in late May sunshine by the Hogwarts lake. They’d been laughing, and Sirius had looked up at him. And they’d been so, so young. And.

“And?”

“While we were cleaning up the. Um. Bodies.” Remus’ chest ached. Sirius looked away again, down at the sweater. It was, Remus realized, as he had every time Sirius had worn it, the same grey as his eyes. “We found Peter. He got hit the worst by the statue. And he was, um.” Sirius ran a hand over his face. “He was the spy, Remus. He was in their robes, had the mask, and the mark. Everything. And Dumbledore said it wasn’t on his orders.”

 _Peter. Peter was the spy._ Remus shook his head a little as if trying to get water out of his ears. It was so fantastically improbable that it, almost, only just, made sense. Hadn’t he always felt that nudging guilt when they left Peter out? Especially once he and Sirius were together, and James had Lily, and they all had the war. He _knew_ Peter was lonely, and scared, and jealous. But he’d told himself. He’d told himself to have more faith in his friend. That growing apart is just what happens when people leave school. That they were _all_ lonely and scared. _Weak excuses._ But then, then. Peter had turned to _Lord Voldemort_ of all options _._ He almost wanted to laugh. Almost.

“I killed him, Moony.” Sirius’ voice was small, he was looking up again and his eyes were desperate. Remus closed the distance between them in a few short strides and took back the sweater, this time draping it over Sirius’ shoulders and guiding his arms through the holes, one at a time.

“You didn’t mean to,” he said firmly, as if that even began to cover the enormity of… of. This. “James and Lily?” he asked.

“They’re safe. They stayed with Harry. Dumbledore’s orders.” Remus nodded, drinking in that relief gratefully.

“Should we go to them? I mean, do you want to?” Remus wasn’t sure if he did, even as he asked. He would, if that was what Sirius wanted, but just holding himself and Sirius together seemed like a monumental task on its own right now. Sirius shook his head.

“I don’t think I can… face him. Right now. Let’s go in the morning.”

“Okay. In the morning.”

“Do you hate me?” Remus looked up from the button he’d been fiddling with on the cardigan. He took Sirius’ face in his hands and kissed him, hard and fierce, on the mouth.

“Never. I love you.” He drew him into his arms, doing his very best to cover every inch of Sirius with his own long limbs and thin chest. He threaded a hand into his still wet hair and just. Held on. “Always have, always will.”


	2. In the Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Realized I messed up the formatting of the last chapter and lost all of the (arguably excessive) italics, so it looks a little different now. I have one more chapter, which I'll upload in the next few days? Thanks so much for reading!

It was strange, Remus thought, to be sitting on a couch that had once resided in the high-ceilinged sitting room of the Potter Manor, but to instead be cozied in James and Lily’s cluttered flat. Strange to look at a baby’s round face and know he belonged to the same James Potter who had once stolen the panties of every witch in Slytherin just because Narcissa had given him a funny look. Strange that the baby was bouncing and cooing on the knee of Sirius Black, who had all too enthusiastically charmed said panties to dance a conga around the Great Hall, and to just. Be desperately, stupidly in love with him.

And all of that was true and also. Also someone was missing. Peter was dead. Peter had betrayed them. Peter was _dead._

The kettle whistled. Remus pressed a hand to Lily’s knee, stopping her from getting up.

“I’ll get it,” he offered. She looked so tired. They all did, he supposed.

He made the tea, milk for Sirius and James, black for Lily, three scoops of sugar for himself. Peter’s cup would have had milk and one sugar. His hands shook and he had to grip the counter for a moment before he could return to the living room, levitating the mugs.

When he turned the corner Fawkes was blinking at him, looking comically large where he’d perched on the coffee table. Harry made grabbing motions at the phoenix with his tiny fists while Sirius held him back. James was reading a note on thick parchment. He looked up at Lily as she distractedly accepted her tea from Remus and he settled back onto the couch.

“He says he’s still prepared to move forward today.” Lily nodded, somehow even paler than usual under her freckles. James turned to Sirius.

“Lils and I talked last night, and we agreed to go back to the original plan. If you’re still willing.” Sirius swept his hair out of his face, looking up from Harry to meet James’ eyes.

“I don’t know, Prongs. I mean of course I _want_ to– and I will if you want me to. But it still seems pretty predictable to me.” Remus swallowed his sip of tea.

“Anyone care to um. Catch me up?” There was a sickening beat of silence, dripping with the knowledge of why Remus didn’t know what was being discussed. It was Lily who broke it, gazing at Remus steadily.

“We’re casting the Fidelius today.” Remus nodded, he knew that much. “And we’d been talking about.” She breathed, eyes flickering to Harry for just a moment. “About switching secret keepers. To Peter.” Remus dropped his mug.

Scalding liquid seeped through his robes and he jumped up. The mug fell out of his lap and onto the floor, shattering. “Shit. Sorry. Fuck, I–” His eyes flickered from Lily to Harry and fell on James. “Pete?” he breathed.

“Yeah, mate.”

Remus sunk back onto the couch, ignoring the shards under his feet and the stain on the front of his robes. He tried desperately just to breathe. How close had they come? If Kingsley hadn’t called for help, if Sirius hadn’t exploded the statue, if Peter hadn’t been in the battle in the first place…

“You don’t think he would have…” James trailed off, not quite able to say what they were all thinking. Harry started crying.

Remus looked up at Sirius, who’s face was dark. “If he did,” he said, “I would’ve killed him all over again for it.” No one could say anything to that. Lily stood and extended her hands for Harry, taking him back to the couch with her. When he started to nurse Harry stopped wailing, and the living room fell silent. Remus’ mind was racing.

“Dumbledore,” he said, finally.

“What?” James asked.

“You’re right, Sirius is too predictable. And if they got through him they’d come for me next. I mean we live together, it would be easy.”

“Remus, I don’t know if Dumbledore would be willing…” Lily said, looking up from Harry’s face in her arms.

“Well bugger that,” Sirius cut in now, standing up. “Moony’s right, Dumbledore is the safest person in this war. The only person Voldemort’s afraid of going after. After all he’s asked us to risk, he better fucking be _willing._ ”

James and Lily were looking at each other, having a conversation in eyebrows. Finally, Lily nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “I think you’re right. Will you write him back, James?” James nodded, standing to retrieve a pen from the bookshelf in the corner.

“We should make a back-up plan though,” Remus said. “One that even Dumbledore doesn’t know about. Just the four of us. In case something happens to him.”

This time Lily agreed immediately. She was shifting Harry to her other breast as she said, “You’re right. We can figure out an alarm system. And if it’s triggered we all apparate to a safe house on the spot.”

“The Shack,” Sirius put in, his face still twisted with something protective and dangerous as he watched Harry. Remus thought, wildly, of the first time Sirius had seen Lily nurse. He’d laughed, and James had hit him.

“Snape knows about it,” James reminded them. Lily winced.

“It won’t matter, we should only be there long enough to activate a portkey.” Remus locked eyes with Sirius, willing him to agree. “If Dumbledore goes down we leave the country,” he continued. “We go somewhere Voldemort wouldn’t even think to look and we stay there until either he dies or we do.” He waited for someone to protest, but the room was quiet again. Sirius was looking at him with the same fierceness he’d been directing at Harry a moment before. He gave a minuscule nod, and when Remus turned to James and Lily they wore similar set, determined expressions. Finally James spoke, drawing from some Head Boy, Quidditch Captain, Unofficial Leader of the Marauders wellspring of bravado.

“You’re right, Remus. Our first loyalty has to be to each other now. We’re a family and we’re _not_ going to lose anyone.” He swallowed. “Else,” he added, in a much quieter voice.

“No more secrets?” Sirius asked. And they all nodded.

“Not from each other,” James said.

“Right,” Lily said, finishing nursing and tucking her breast back into her shirt. She stood up, cradling Harry to her chest. “I’m going to put him down for a nap and then we’ll sort the details.” And that was that.

Lily left the room. James scribbled a note to Dumbledore. Remus siphoned tea off of his robes with his wand, and Sirius knelt beside him to gather shards of the mug. It was only a beginning of a plan, but it was something to hold onto. And Remus felt his knuckles going white with it. He wouldn’t let go.


	3. Grown Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Thanks for reading y'all!

“We have to talk about it, you know.”

“Mm. ‘Bout what?” Remus was very comfortable. He had a naked Sirius tucked in his arms, a sheet was draped over both of them, and dusty late autumn sunlight streamed across the bed. He ran a finger up Sirius’ arm, letting his mind remain blissfully blank for a moment longer.

“About me thinking you were the spy.” He froze. Oh. That.

“What about it?”

“Just. I shouldn’t have. I should have trusted you. You should be furious with me.” Remus sighed and decided a little avoidance never hurt anyone. He rolled on top of Sirius, pinning him on his back, one wrist under each of Remus’ hands.

“You think I should… _punish_ you?” he asked, leaning in to the scratchy morning voice of it all. Sirius laughed, high and bright and toothy, even as his eyes got just a touch darker.

“Oh. Okay so um. Unrelated but. Yes, actually.” Remus growled, nuzzling a vein in Sirius’ neck. “But.” Remus growled louder, and bit down, just once. Sirius squirmed. “ _But,_ ” he continued. “Not right now. I had this great boyfriend once, wise bloke. Sexy too, for what its worth. And I seem to recall him telling me,” Sirius affected a horrible Welsh accent, “ _Padfoot, we can’t just use sex to solve our problems. We have to talk to each other.”_ Remus sighed and let his forehead drop on to Sirius’ collarbone.

The poor imitation of past him was right, of course. Of course he would never bring something like this into their play. He had boundaries, he took care of Sirius, that was the whole point. Or it had been. It had been a long time since there had been enough trust in their relationship for anything beyond run of the mill fucking, or, as Sirius had termed their first time in months last night, laughing in a sleepy cocoon of blankets and sex smells, _lovemaking._ And with Sirius underneath him like this Remus _missed_ it. The rush of power, possession, control. The sounds he knew he could get Sirius to make, when he was pushed hard up to his limit and then allowed to release. And he supposed, if he was being honest with himself, he knew that the only way they could do _that_ again was if first they– yes. Talked about it.

He rolled off of Sirius, resigned.

“Who are you and what have you done with my slutty boyfriend?” he asked, a laugh at the edge of his voice. Sirius laughed too, for a moment, but then he sighed and used his newfound freedom to roll onto his side and prop himself up on an elbow, facing Remus.

“I don’t know. I keep realizing how much I’m changing.” Not funny. Not a joke. “I mean, I’ll always be a slut for you, Moony,” he amended, smiling. “Maybe just a… grown up slut.” Remus thought he could cry. They were _twenty-one_ for Godric’s sake. He glared up at the ceiling, as if it was to blame.

“Okay. What if I’m not?” He let his eyes trace one of the familiar cracks in the plaster. “Furious I mean.”

“How can you not be?”

“I mean. I get it.” Sirius sat up quickly.

“What the fuck, Moony? You’re not supposed to get it.” Remus didn’t move.

“I’m not,” he let just his eyes turn to find Sirius’ and raised one eyebrow, “ _supposed_ to?” Sirius quailed a little, but didn’t look away.

“I just mean. You’re worth more than that. You’re always so goddamn self-sacrificing like we’re just doing you a favor by being around but you can’t just. Just _understand_ why your– why someone who’s supposed to love you. Who’s _in love_ with you would– I mean that’s. _I_ might as well have betrayed _you_.” Remus turned his eyes back to the ceiling.

“Mm. Well. You didn’t though, did you?”

“That’s not–” Sirius started to protest.

“No. It _is_ the point. You didn’t betray me. Peter did.” Saying his name twinged, but Remus sat up and pressed on. “And everyone thought it was me because I’m a werewolf. That makes sense.”

“No it doesn’t!”

“Yes. It does,” Remus insisted. “Not because I turn into a monster once a month, but because the other twenty-eight days I’m treated like one. The truth is, I stopped giving a shit about this war the minute I set foot into one of those camps. No one would ever admit it, but I think we all know that no matter which side wins… I– people like me– lose.” Remus looked at Sirius, who was silent now, a crease between his eyebrows. With some humor, he thought of how uncommon it was to see Sirius speechless.

“I owe Dumbledore. And I love you and James and Lily more than anything. But if it was just me on my own.” He drew a deep breath. “I would have run away and never looked back.” He watched, lips pressed together, as countless emotions flashed through Sirius’ eyes.

“You wouldn’t have betrayed us though,” he said finally. It was only barely not a question. Remus shook his head decisively.

“No. Never.”

“Then you still have a right to be mad. To yell at me or not talk to me or…” Remus put his hand over Sirius’ where it was balled on the mattress.

“You want me to be angry so that you can suffer before I forgive you. So you can feel like you’ve earned it.” Sirius shifted uncomfortably.

“No, I– Wouldn’t it make you feel better?”

“To be angry with you?” Sirius nodded. “No, Padfoot. I think it would kill me.”

“Didn’t it help before?” Remus smiled a little, sadly. He didn’t have to ask what Sirius was talking about.

“When we were fifteen? And you were an arrogant prick who didn’t think about the consequences of your actions and I was so angry and self-hating that I was determined to believe everyone I loved would eventually leave me?” Sirius shrugged, a little sullen. Remus pulled Sirius’ hand into his lap, winding their fingers together. “I think things have changed a bit since then, don’t you?”

“I dunno. I’m still kind of an arrogant prick.” Remus pressed the back of Sirius’ hand to his lips.

“Yes, but now you’re a _grown up_ arrogant prick.” Sirius laughed and something released in Remus’ chest.

“I’m not pretending it doesn’t hurt, I just. It does hurt. But I’m making the choice to forgive you and– and trust you. Because that’s what I need to get through this.” Remus rotated his body so he could look at Sirius full on. “That okay?”

Sirius touched Remus’ face with the hand he wasn’t holding. He ran his thumb gently over Remus’ cheekbone and Remus felt the little skip where the pad dragged over scar tissue and his nerves couldn’t recognize it, and then it was back on the other side. Always back eventually.

“I love you. I’m so– so completely _yours,_ Moony. It scares me.” Remus nodded, a familiar hunger lapping quietly in his belly. “I never want to hurt you again.” Remus tilted his forehead forwards, so that it rested on Sirius’. Black hair curtained their faces, so they could have been the only two people in the world.

“You probably will. And I’ll probably hurt you too. But we’re just gonna have to survive it together, hm?” Sirius nodded, moving both of their heads with the gesture. “I love you too,” Remus breathed against Sirius’ lips. And they kissed. And they were still too young and too embedded in a war that had already cost them too much, but for the first time in months, Remus wanted to live to see the other side of it.


End file.
